Awake
by BloodAndDiamonds
Summary: It was a crash, but a deadly one which left Demyx in a comatose state for 14 years. When he wakes up, Zexion isn't there, and the blonde soon finds that his time is limited. But can he find Zexion, before eternal sleep claims him once again?
1. Awakening

**A/N: **Gah, just another two-shot from me! Please R&R! If you don't plan on doing that, then don't bother reading!

* * *

_Zexion_

We were sixteen. _Sixteen_. He didn't deserve to be in the state he was in then, and still is in. It's wrong, unfair, unruly and unsettling. His hair is no longer it's shiny, dirty blonde colour, but more of a greasy dark blonde due to the hospital's cheap shampoo. The hospital gown that covers his limp body is so wrong and out of place that it scares me; it makes his tanned skin look sickly and pale.

His eyelids don't even flicker when I speak to him, no movement under the thin skin over his eyes that is practically black from the circles. Years of sleep have caused his body to go into complete shutdown, and the skin hangs off his bones like paper, his lips in a constant 'O' shape as his jaw hangs limp with no control.

In the past eight years, not one part of him has ever moved, not one scan or test has shown signs of him recovering. And yet, despite the tears that come to my eyes every time I walk into that hospital room, I can't seem to bring myself to allow the doctors to turn that life support off.

Every time I see him, a massive urge and will to let him be at peace takes over my mind and body, my senses go numb and my eyes water as I think of his beautiful smiling face, the bright Aqua eyes that haven't seen light in eight years begging me to let him rest. Every day the nurses ask me if I'm certain I want him to be put through this, and as I go to say 'No, turn it off,' another feeling takes over, and the previous image of him begging me to let him rest changes to a similar one, only he's begging me to let him live, begging me to just _wait_.

And the promise that he makes in that image makes me clench my teeth and shake my head furiously. Then I'll slip into the same routine that I've been doing for the past eight years; walking into the room and then grasping his hand tightly.

Only today is different from all those other days. I don't want my Demyx to suffer anymore, but at the same time I want to give him a few more years to be given the chance to recover. I walk into the hospital, my head held high as I sit in the chair and wait for the nurse to come over again. The beeping of the machine makes me twitch, and in a flash of a second the entire reason that caused him to be here flashed through my mind.

"_Demyx, seriously, keep your eyes on the road!" I hissed, wincing as he almost hit a deer on the foggy, misty road. Poor Bambi ran into the field next to us quickly, eyes wide at his near death experience. Mere seconds later and a car had come out of nowhere, heading straight for us on the same lane. _

"_Holy shit, Ah!" Demyx shouted loudly into the car as he tried to swerve but found that the car opposite had swerved in the same direction. We hit the car head on, and in a moment that could only be described as pure fear, the airbags came up and smashed the two of us in the face, along with the window and pieces of flying metal. But that wasn't the worst of it. The person in the other car had left their vehicle seconds later, and the metal flash of a gun caught my eye. I looked over at Demyx, but he was unconscious, blood trickling down his face from a wound in his head. I heard the gun shoot twice; feeling one of the bullets hitting my leg, and the other hit the limp body next to me, and then all went black._

I shuddered at the memory, recalling how strange the aftermath was. The doctors claimed that no bullet was found in Demyx _or_ my leg, and no wounds were actually on us from a gun. Simply the wounds sustained from the crash. The same day they told me that Demyx was likely to never wake up. I still pay the bills for his home, despite the fact that the place hasn't been entered in _eight _full years. Absolutely _no one_ has entered. I sometimes wince at the thought of what it must look like on the inside now it's deteriorated somewhat.

"Mr Numara?" The pretty nurse walks over to me, the same old clipboard in her hand, and the same pink bow in her hair as the day when I first saw Demyx in that bed. The only difference is that her hair is a tad darker, her face a little thinner.

She goes through procedures with me, and I leave the hospital with tear tracks down my face, and the hospital's word that should Demyx not wake up in six years, then the life support is allowed to be turned off.

I can no longer go back there.

* * *

_Six years later_

Nurse Aerith walked slowly through the halls of the hospital. In three minutes the clock would strike ten am, and she would be forced to turn off the life support machine for her very first patient. It had been her first day when the blonde, mulleted male had been brought in, in a comatose state. The hospital had been extremely busy that day due to the shooting of another male, and Aerith wondered that if the Hospital hadn't been so busy, then the blonde just might not be sleeping in that bed at this moment.

His boyfriend had waited vigilantly by his side for eight years. Aerith had watched as the eight years of grieving and waiting for the blonde to wake up ate away at the purple haired male, and his body had deteriorated along with his boyfriends.

And now, six years on from the exact date that Zexion Numara had left the hospital for the last time, Aerith was about to pull the plug on Demyx Fishers life. Tears were stinging her own eyes as she opened the door to the empty room, sad that the boy would have to die alone. Not that he was a boy anymore, but a man of thirty years old. No numbers were saved for Zexion Numara, as he didn't want to be informed of Demyx's death, but instead wanted to hope that the Blonde would survive and one day find him.

Slowly approaching the bed in the centre of the room, her hands were clutching the clipboard tightly as a doctor followed her in to switch the machine off. The certificate in her hand had the time of death down as exactly ten am, and when the clock tower bell outside struck the hour, Aerith nodded to the doctor.

The machine was turned off in less a second.

And in ten, full seconds later, Aerith gasped.

For the first time in 14 years, Demyx's aqua eyes flickered open.


	2. Frustration

A/N: Hell! Thanks to those who reviewed and faved the story! I really appreciate it! This is most likely going to be a three-shot, as I've wrote too much to be a two shot xD

* * *

_Demyx_

His eyes, mere seconds after they opened, were clamped shut once more, the amount of light streaming in through the windows causing pain to shoot through his head, a gritty feeling behind his eyelids surfacing and kicking his brain into action. Demyx moaned loudly into the room, prompting Aerith to move forward to stop what she knew was coming. She wasn't quick enough. A horrible, heart-wrenching, croaky, ear splitting scream resounded through the room as the pain of his blood being forced around his body by one of the many machines around him finally registered to his brain.

Demyx's teeth were tightly clenched together, his head rapidly moving side to side on the hospital pillow, hands balling slowly into fists as were ripped from his arms, other needles and machines were removed from their places on his body, and his terrified, pain-filled moans starting to quiet down. Aerith quietly finished disconnecting all attachments to his body, noting how his voice box was already kicking into action due to the moans and croaks that were supposedly words coming from his mouth.

"Demyx?"

"Mm... Zexion?" The name left his mouth after a few croaks and jumble of letters, and the mere mention of the name struck Aerith as odd.

"You remember?" She chose her words carefully, cursing herself for _ever_ destroying Zexion's records. Demyx stared up at the ceiling for a moment, stringing words and letters together in his mind, one part of his brain laughing at him for seeming like a baby. After a few moments of frustration, Demyx blinked, strung some words together and spoke.

"Shouldn't I?" Demyx tried moving his fingers, finding that he could just that, but moving his arms felt impossible. He felt like he had just been shot in the arms, the bones and muscles feeling like a heavyweight that he could do without. Aerith watched him, mouth agape as her mind ran over his case. Something like this was extremely rare, a one in a million chance. Practically no one ever woke up from a coma and be able to speak and move their fingers in a matter of minutes.

_But what if... _

Aerith gasped as she realized what could have actually happened. Demyx may not have actually been in a coma the entire time, but merely unconscious after he had the operation after the crash. When he was hooked up to the machines, they would have kept his body in the state it was in at the start.

"No Demyx, technically, you shouldn't be able to remember anything. What do you know about Zexion?" At her question, Demyx stared up at the ceiling again, muttering a single sentence from his lips.

"You'll always be mine."

"What?"

"That- That's what he said to me when I was asleep." Demyx stuttered and paused many times during that single sentence, but the answer prompted Aerith to ask more.

"What do you remember from being asleep?"

"Nothing... His voice, endless time."

"You mean that you had no sense of time, and that the only thing you could hear was his voice?" At this Demyx nodded weakly, his eyes not leaving their place at the ceiling, frustration taking over him as he realized that Zexion had left him when he said he would. He had no idea how long ago that was, but he remembered it.

"He's gone..." He closed his eyes again, wishing desperately to be able to sink back into the abyss of unconsciousness. He preferred it then, despite the fact that he was always aggravated when he couldn't move or open his eyes.

* * *

_Two Months Later_

Demyx looked at the keys in his hand blankly, vaguely hearing the taxi driver drive off down the road. According to Aerith and every other legal document that had come in to the hospital, the remainder of his family had died whilst he was in the coma. Not that there was many of them left. Only Larxene was still alive on the day of the crash, and she had apparently been killed in a thunderstorm.

Zexion, his boyfriend at the time, had then been signed on as his legal carer, and had apparently been paying the bills for his apartment for the full 14 years, up until two months ago when he suspected Demyx to have died.

Due to the fact that Zexion was no longer appointed as his carer and legal guardian the day before they were due to switch the machines off, Zexion would not have been notified of Demyx's awakening. Aerith had managed to secure a loan for Demyx, therefore his apartment was still his, and according to the pretty nurse, no one had entered the place in the 14 years since he left.

After two months of harsh physiotherapy, voice therapy and teaching, Demyx was declared well enough to go home, and the hospital had given him a taxi and all of his possessions when he left.

And that brought Demyx to where he was now. Stood nervously outside the door to his old apartment, dreading walking in and seeing how bad it was. He winced at the thought of opening the fridge. That milk was already bad on the day of the crash. Gulping loudly, he pushed the key into the lock, listening as it clicked, and he swung the door open.

Walking in, the entire apartment was pitch black, the strong scent of dampness infiltrating his nostrils and waging a war against him. All the dust in the air caused his eyes to water and his body to start coughing. The place was a mess. Demyx stepped forward, walking over something that was once wooden, and almost vomiting as his foot went right through the mushy wood.

"This... This is impossible. It's been fourteen friken years, not four hundred!" Demyx hissed through clenched teeth, a feeling of utter shock and desperation taking over him. He started to suspect that the tears from his eyes were for the apartment when he looked over at the sleeping area. The once blue and purple duvet was now a dark, greenish colour, the dampness that had probably leaked into the apartment during the rain having caused the apartment to deteriorate rapidly. One of Zexion's shirts was hanging off the bottom of the bed, the white having turned a horrid cream colour in the years that it had been left hanging there. His college bag was on the bed where he had dumped it, along with his hoodie and Sitar case.

His heart skipped a few beats, his legs making him run across the damp carpet and towards the bed, his hands grasping the case and unbuckling the buckles on the side of case. Spider webs were strung around the instrument, a particularly large spider and her eggs lying under one of the curves at the top. He almost cried when he was forced to slam the lid shut in fear, sniffling desperately when he realized that he would need one of those specialists to come out and remove the spiders that were most likely in every crevice of the house.

Demyx backed away from that part of the apartment when his eye caught the huge spider web in the top corner of the room.

"Oh god..." Demyx cast his eyes to his shelves, all the cans of aerosols knocked over because of his rush 14 years ago. His thick hair wax had a very greenish, vomit like substance floating atop the now creamy wax, and Demyx slammed the lid over the tub quickly.

_Come on, there's got to be _something _here that hasn't rotted!_

Demyx looked towards the kitchen, groaning loudly in the room at the black and green mould that was growing on the door of the fridge. In seconds he had found a black bag from one of the cupboards next to the fridge. He placed one hand over his nose, and another gloved one on the fridge handle, took a deep breath and muttered.

"Well, here goes nothing."

* * *

Demyx stared at the concrete floor of the park, eyes red with tears as he went through all of the text messages on his phone. Said phone had been found under the Sitar case, where creepily enough, a small square patch of purple was still visible from where the phone had been sitting for 14 years. Demyx had left it at home on the day of the crash, and he had left it turned off. So when the blonde turned the phone on, he was shocked to find that the phone had been bombarded with over 150 text messages. Some were from Axel and Roxas, who he hadn't introduced to Zexion before the crash, and the two had had no idea what had happened to the blonde man. This was evident as most of the texts from the two had said things like 'Dude, why won't you text back?' and 'What's wrong man?'

There were only fifty of those, with the last one being received a year after the accident. But the worst ones were from Zexion's phone. Demyx read over one of them again.

_Demyx,_

_God, it feels so strange to be doing this, and yet so familiar, as I've done nothing else _but_ this. I don't know why I keep paying your phone bill, but that's most likely because if I can text you, then at least there's some part of you I can talk to. But hey, you may never get this text._

_After eight years of dark days and nights, eight years without your loving smile, I'm going to be making a decision. I can't watch you simply lie there in that hospital bed, never knowing if you're in pain or bliss, if you can hear me or not. When I enter that hospital tomorrow, I'm going to sign the papers that give you six more years to wake up, and then I'm going to have to go._

_Love you forever, and no matter what happens, you'll always be mine._

_Zexion_

Every time that Demyx read that message, his eyes welled up with tears that would eventually stream down his face uncontrollably. He hated everything and everyone in the world for abandoning him in the last six years, hated everyone because he had spent half his life in a coma. His vision went even more blurred when a sharp, stab like pain shot through his shoulder, like a bullet making an excruciatingly, painful, slow journey through his blood.

He had no clue that his dramatisation was actually true.


	3. Peace

**A/N: **Hey! Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! Here's the final one! I hope you like it! Sorry if the last scenes are strangely written, I can't write scenes like that. BTW, an Embolism _is _the blockage of an artery, right?

* * *

_Demyx and Zexion_

It was raining by the time that Demyx's watch hit three pm. The cold droplets were pelting down on his back painfully, soaking him to the bone and making his clothes a lot heavier. Every few minutes a sharp pain would jolt along the front of his chest, the strange feeling of something thick being pulled through his veins. A few seconds after his watch hit three pm, a figure appeared at the park gates, a dark black coat hugging the person's body, a hood effectively hiding him from view. Demyx had his own hood pulled up tightly, his nose scrunching when a drop of water fell onto the bridge.

Demyx smile when the figure looked around the park, pausing when it faced Demyx, and started to walk forward. Zexion was _never _late.

He stood up from his seat on the bench when Zexion reached the fountain, Demyx's own legs forcing him to walk forward, his stomach bursting with the butterflies that were flying around inside him. Demyx yearned for the purple haired males touch, was desperate to push Zexion's hood back and see how he had aged. But Zexion would most likely need convincing.

They both met at the metal plaque that contained information on the fountain, both as stiff as soldiers standing on the front line. Zexion waited for Demyx to speak, most likely trying to check if his voice was the same.

"Well?" He sounded impatient, most likely certain that this was all a joke. His voice was strained and cracking at points in the single word, prompting Demyx to wince inwardly.

"You- You don't believe it's really me, do you?" The butterflies inside Demyx's stomach were immediately shot down, the urge to vomit rising into his throat and the sting of tears threatening to jump from his eyes. Nurse Aerith had said that the onslaught of emotions was normal at the moment, yet Demyx had the feeling that these feelings weren't from coma trauma, but rather from the way Zexion was addressing him. Neither one of them had pulled down their hoods yet, none of them willing to risk a drench for a lost cause.

"No, I don't. Demyx would have found a way to get in touch sooner, would have most likely jumped on me the moment he saw me."

"Does it not occur to you that I've changed due to the fact that I've been unconscious for fourteen years?!" At Demyx's response Zexion scoffed, turning his head to the side and facing the ground.

"I can't deal with this."

"Why Zexion, _why _can't you!?" Zexion, who had been in the process of turning around and walking away, halted, and the eerie atmosphere of being in the presence of a killer took over at the pure annoyance that was radiating from Zexion. Said male gritted his teeth quite loudly, pushing his hood back and glaring straight at Demyx. Demyx stepped back a few steps, keeping his eyes on Zexion.

"_Why _can't I stand this? Because after eight years of watching my boyfriend lie in a coma, I took the weak option and ran away, leaving him in the care of the doctors! On the off chance that he would have woken up alone! I spent every day of those first eight years looking down at his dry, cracking face and closed eyes never knowing if he was in pain or bliss, never knowing if he would ever wake up again! I spent every day of the latter six years battling with myself on whether or not to go back, calling myself a coward and an idiot! I couldn't even show up when they turned the life support off. His ghost most likely watches me with a look of pure disappointment on his face." Zexion had started the rant very angrily, his emotions raging all over the place, only to end up finishing his sentence with a broken sob and tears streaking down his face.

"You still don't get it, do you? I _am _Demyx! Demyx Fisher, aged 30, DOB ninth of June!"

"You could have gotten that information anywhere!" Zexion spoke through gritted teeth, holding back a cry of shock when Demyx ripped his hood from his jacket, revealing his face to Zexion. Demyx grabbed Zexion's shoulders, shook them lightly and spoke.

"You'll always be mine, no one, not even god can take you away from me." Demyx hissed through his teeth, watching as the purple haired male withdrew into himself, a look of confusion on his face.

"How did you-"

"_Those _were the words you spoke to me when I was unconscious on that hospital bed! You said them to me _every _day! You _must _know it's me!" It seemed, to Demyx, that those words were all the confirmation Zexion needed, for moments later he found himself tightly wrapped in an embrace from Zexion. The other man was furiously wiping away tears of his own as Demyx nuzzled his face into Zexion's coat, memorizing the scent, remembering the feeling of being in the older males arms.

The embrace was short lived however, as Demyx's knees buckled underneath him when another, sharper, more painful ache jolted through his body, directly over his left breast. Zexion was dragged down with him, his worried shouts still echoing in Demyx's ear even as his vision blacked.

* * *

_Demyx_

He hated this feeling. He hated the feeling of _knowing _exactly what it was that he was about to wake up to, hated that the beeping machines in the room proved everything his brain was thinking correct. He felt the same as when his mother told him that Father Christmas wasn't really real, the same as when his parents both disowned him at fifteen for dating Zexion. A churning feeling was reverberating around his stomach, bile waiting patiently at the back of his throat to be hurled into a bucket, his head waiting to explode.

His eyes flickered open softly, to be met with a familiar sight.

White.

White walls, white sheets, white fabric on his body, and white machines. One next to his bed was going haywire, most likely measuring his heartbeat. A small squeeze on his hand made him turn his head, only to be met with a very morose looking Zexion.

"Hey..." His voice was quiet, his smile quite sad as he used his spare hand to brush some of Demyx's hair from his face. Zexion kept his free hand there, stroking Demyx's cheek softly.

"Hey... Why am I here again?" At his question, tears slipped into Zexion's eyes, his face being forced into a sad smile which faltered when he locked eyes with Demyx.

"They found a bullet in your bloodstream, the one that I had told them was there fourteen years ago. They removed it, but there were some complications."

"And they are?"

"Extremely high risk of a possible embolism." Demyx paled slightly at the answer, knowing full well by the pain that had just sprung up over his breast bone that he _would _suffer the embolism that was sure to come any moment now. And from the look that was hidden behind the mask on Zexion's face, he knew it too.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Demyx asked quietly, choking back tears as he looked at Zexion. Zexion bowed his head, tracing patterns on the back of Demyx's hand idly.

"With the length of time that the bullet was in there, then the chance is very high."

"If-If I do suffer an embolism, please, don't let them revive me." He broke into tears, prompting Zexion to stroke his hair soothingly and squeeze his hand.

"Shh... Don't worry..." The purple haired male sighed sadly, leaning over to kiss Demyx lightly on the head. "I never did stop loving you, and I don't think I ever will." A few tears slid silently down Zexion's cheeks, a horrible feeling of dread taking over his body as he watched the steadily paling blonde in the bed.

After a few moments of Demyx's tight grip in his hand and panicked breaths, Demyx twisted in the bed, his back arching and a pain-filled shriek being let loose from his lips. Demyx tightened his grip on Zexion's hands, allowing a loud moan to be emitted from his body as he twisted again. This time he moved a few centimetres up from the bed, a fire of pain racing through his body, the sensation of being burned alive taking over. The pain of a million knives cutting into his body was registered in his brain, most noticeably down his left arm.

Zexion squeezed his eyes shut tightly at first in an attempt to block out the blondes screams of pain, but instead opened them and held Demyx's right hand in both of his own. Tears were still falling down the blonde's face, mostly from agony and disbelief as another shoot of fire coursed through him, the machine next to him beeping quickly and loudly as his heart pumped fast to retrieve blood.

It wasn't getting much.

The machine beeped to the point of ten beeps per second, before seemingly stopping. The beeping started once more, only excruciatingly slower this time.

Demyx collapsed back into the bed, his hold on Zexion's hand slackening. Sweat lined his forehead as he shook violently, gasping for breath and wincing as his chest practically exploded. Zexion was trembling in fear as Demyx's eyes swivelled in and out of focus, the blonde panting and narrowing his eyes as pain shot through him repeatedly. The machine on the other side of the bed started to beep, the number quickly decreasing from 90-something down to the thirties.

His panting slowed, eventually stopping ten seconds later, Demyx's eyes looking over at Zexion, seemingly begging him to stop the pain.

"Shh... It's going to be over soon."

"I-I..." Demyx's sentence trailed off, his eyes slowly slipping shut as the machine flat lined. Darkness took over the blonde's vision quickly. The grip that was slowly losing its hold on Zexion's hand went completely limp, no force of life behind it to keep it strong.

Demyx Fisher had _finally _found peace.

* * *

_Zexion_

The ocean waves lapped sneakily up the shore line, surrounding the pot of ashes that was laid in the sand. The pot wasn't too fancy, certainly not one of the ones that were given to a person who had lost a loved one, but one of Demyx's favourites. He would have hated the fancy, decorated ones. Zexion pulled the pot from the sand, removing the lid and throwing it into the sea.

"I hope you like this place. You always did love the ocean. But I just can't shake the feeling that this is all partially my fault. If I had just told them to take the life support off all those years ago, you may not have suffered that much, we may have had more time together." Zexion shook his head, tears falling down his face quickly.

"I love you, Demyx." With that being said, Zexion held the pot at an angle and shook it, the ashes picking up in the breeze and flying out towards the ocean. The wind tickled his face, a very, _very _faint whisper of _I love you too _accompanying it.

Zexion put his hand to his cheek, sighed sadly, and walked up the steps and away from the ocean.


End file.
